


Trophy

by seungshibari



Category: Stray Kids (Band)
Genre: Acrylics, Behavior Modification, Body Modification, Consent Issues, Discipline, Dollification, Dom/sub, Dumbification, Engineer Seungmin, Fucking Machines, Good Manners, Humiliation, Hypnotism, Live-in D/s, M/M, Master/Slave, Name-Calling, Nipple Play, Prostate Milking, Total Power Exchange, Trophy Husband Hyunjin, Verbal Humiliation, bimbofication, temporary body modification, writing lines
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-06
Updated: 2021-02-06
Packaged: 2021-03-17 15:22:17
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,705
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29227656
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/seungshibari/pseuds/seungshibari
Summary: Hyunjin knelt quietly, a pretty porcelain bowl under his torso to keep his dick from leaking precum onto the ground. Finally, Seungmin was putting the fucking machine to use, nudging the eight-inch attachment into Hyunjin’s sloppy, rosy hole.“Wouldn’t want you to cut yourself up with those new nails,” Seungmin murmured, flipping the switch and walking out of the room to sort through the mail or check the DOW or whatever real people did. Whatever smart people did.
Relationships: Hwang Hyunjin/Kim Seungmin
Comments: 17
Kudos: 131





	Trophy

**Author's Note:**

> I DO NOT give permission for this fic or portions of this fic to be REPRODUCED or REUPLOADED without my express consent. 
> 
> please consider the tags before reading. since hyunjin undergoes hypnosis in this fic, his ability to consent is impaired. he cannot give true consent while impacted by the effects of hypnosis. because of these reasons, this fic is tagged as noncon.

“My thoughts are your thoughts. What _ I  _ think is good.” Seungmin murmured softly. Even in a low, soothing tone, he maintained a measured and authoritative air. 

“Your thoughts are my thoughts, what you think is good,” Hyunjin repeated obediently, “I don’t need to make choices.”

After a few brief hypnosis sessions, Hyunjin had fallen deeply into his role. His mind was malleable, open to suggestion. He remembered the day Seungmin had decided what he would be. “Since you can’t be a smart slave, we’re going to make you even prettier.” 

_ “Prettier?” Hyunjin’s gleeful voice ascended in pitch as a deluge of gratitude spewed from his mouth. “Oh, Master, that’s such a good idea, thank you for thinking of this lowly slave, I can’t wait to be even prettier for you and -“ _

_ “Quiet. Don’t make me change my mind,” Seungmin had threatened. “I could pump your lips so full of silicone you won’t be able to talk again.”  _

The demarcation between “pretty” and “ugly” was much more difficult to navigate than Hyunjin thought. “You look so good like this,” Seungmin would coo, as he wedged a dental spreader in Hyunjin’s perfect mouth or placed unsightly nose hooks in his nostrils. Hyunjin didn’t know what to think, so he didn’t think at all. 

“I’m taking you to the salon today,” Seungmin announced from the doorway, startling Hyunjin out of his seat at the vanity. He placed the flat iron down and loosely slid off of the chair onto his knees, assuming the expected presentation position. 

Inspection: approaching with grace, Seungmin placed his fingers at the corners of Hyunjin’s puffy lips and pulled them apart, examining his teeth, his tongue. He pressed his index finger back far enough for Hyunjin to choke. Extracting it from the wet hole, he wiped the slime into Hyunjin’s freshly-straightened hair. “Turn.” 

Hyunjin obediently swirled around and presented his ass, pressing his face to the floor and reaching back to spread his cheeks. 

“Good.” 

Dumbly, Hyunjin nuzzled the carpet as Seungmin pried his ass open. “Nice and clean,” Seungmin hummed. Damn right, he was clean. Hyunjin had wallowed and whined his way through two enemas. Seungmin insisted on even numbers. “So clean. If you ran another one, you could probably drink the water, huh? Would you do that for me?” 

Hyunjin squeezed his eyes shut and nodded. The rug’s texture irritated the tender skin of his smooth face. He meant it, though: if Seungmin wanted Hyunjin to lap up his own enema water, then he wanted to do it. Their desires were merged, completely. 

His early days were full of brooding and preening and waiting, lithe body curled up by the bay window, sighing until Seungmin came home from work. He was mesmerized by his own reflection, his scalp still stinging from yesterday’s bleach. Now, he busied himself with other things: yoga, doodling, and staring at the rudimentary fucking machine that Seungmin had been constructing for the past month. 

Even now, he was fascinated by it, staring at the inconspicuous wooden box while Seungmin shoved a finger inside him. It was Seungmin’s on-and-off pet project, second only to Hyunjin. Seungmin had spent days drawing up the plans on his laptop, with Hyunjin tucked neatly away under his desk to suck his cock when he asked. 

_ “Master,” Hyunjin had whispered from his temporary storage space, “what’re you working onnn?”  _

_ “You wouldn’t understand. Stick to what you’re good at.” So Hyunjin eased Seungmin’s dick out of his slacks and obediently sucked his balls.  _

Captivity was comfort. Control was comfort. It was all the same. 

* * *

Hyunjin huffed as he tried to open the jam jar, his unwieldy nails getting in the way of the rim. The nails, in combination with his curly blond hair and garish wardrobe, gave him the appearance of a particularly whorish alien. “Fuck.” 

When Seungmin had mentioned the salon trip, Hyunjin hypothesized that it was for another dyejob, or maybe eyebrow threading, something not-quick and not-painless but quotidienne by their standards. He suspected that the reason that Seungmin had his hair dyed so often was because bleach kills brain cells. He’d read that in Buzzfeed. Instead of the hairstylist’s loft, they’d pulled into an unfamiliar parking lot with a simplistic marquee and gently buzzing neon in the window: NAILS. When he’d left, his fingers were an inch and a half longer, carved into a stiletto shape, and deliriously glittery. 

“I didn’t teach you to speak like that. Are you complaining? I made you prettier.” He never intentionally disobeyed, but Hyunjin always got a little hard when he was called out for poor manners. 

Hyunjin curtsied, then accidentally jabbed a pastel talon into his eyebrow when he tried to flick a strand of hair away from his forehead. “No, Master, of course not, I wouldn’t dream of it.” 

Disrespect, deliberate or not, was swiftly corrected in Seungmin’s household. 

_ The dinner fork and salad fork looked the same to Hyunjin at first, but when he picked up one instead of the other, Seungmin clocked him instantly. “Nope.” The punishment fit the crime: Hyunjin’s silverware privileges had been rescinded, and he ate off of the floor for a week. No bowl, no placemat, just the kitchen tile. “A nice incentive for you to do a better job mopping, huh?”  _

“Are they difficult?” Seungmin caught Hyunjin by the wrist and examined his claws with a sharp grin. 

“Yes, Master,” Hyunjin admitted ruefully, “I can’t do anything with them.” 

“Well, that’s too bad. If you can’t play with your ass or braid your hair, I guess there’s not that much left for you to do with yourself. Do you miss fingerfucking yourself?” Seungmin seemed disinterested, but Hyunjin knew it was an act. 

“I do, Master. I feel so empty.” 

“You are empty. We can fix it.” 

* * *

Hyunjin knelt quietly, a pretty porcelain bowl under his torso to keep his dick from leaking precum onto the ground. Finally, Seungmin was putting the fucking machine to use, nudging the eight-inch attachment into Hyunjin’s sloppy, rosy hole. “Wouldn’t want you to cut yourself up with those nails,” Seungmin murmured, flipping the switch and walking out of the room to sort through the mail or check the DOW or whatever real people did. Whatever smart people did. 

When the machine started up, his hands made an ugly scrabbling sound on the hardwood. Unceremoniously, his mouth dropped when the toy plunged in. Although the bimbo act was partially a performance - played-up for mutual arousal - this part was real: Hyunjin’s slim, hairless body quaking as his high moans rose up into the lofted ceiling. 

Hyunjin wondered if it was possible to have his brains fucked out, and if this was what it felt like. His tendons liquefied as the dildo continued to piston. Seungmin couldn’t be bothered to finger Hyunjin, let alone to fuck him, so it made sense that he’d craft something to do the task for him. To keep Hyunjin open and wanting, just in case Seungmin changed his mind. Seungmin usually didn’t change his mind, so Hyunjin was glad to have the company of the machine. 

At thirty minutes, his head was fuzzy and dim, not with a darkness, but with a softness. Sometime during that half hour, Seungmin had snuck in, quiet as a cat, and fixed a pair of inconspicuous little nipple suckers onto Hyunjin’s chest. His whole body shook with the jolting vibrations of the machine, unwavering as it plowed into his waxed hole, while his nipples became puffier and puffier from the pull of the suckers. 

His mouth, brimming as it was with his signature high-tight-quick moans, had gone slack, lips dripping spit in a way that mirrored the drool of precum into the saucer beneath him. 

“That’s enough for you, bitch.” Hyunjin gave a sad, vacant cry when Seungmin flipped the machine off. The room was too quiet now, and Hyunjin was painfully aware of his own pitiful noises. 

Seungmin scowled down at the dish full of Hyunjin’s viscous cum. With a grimace, he grabbed it in his delicate fingers and dumped it onto Hyunjin’s forehead. He indulged in a subtle grin - Hyunjin’s reaction to his own slime settling onto his scalp was just too good to ignore. “Go clean this.” Seungmin pushed the empty dish closer to Hyunjin’s face. His dry, pink tongue ventured out to lick the saucer clean. When only a few drops of cum remained, he took the thin edge of it between his lips and crawled to the kitchen. 

His legs were still shaking. He felt weak and small but  _ right _ . This was his desire, shameful and perfect, bleach, blurred eyes, injections, skin hot with bright-red hives. Perfect, but never perfect enough. Upward, endlessly. 

Hyunjin grinned in his reflection, but it was a horrid idea to allow himself to play ‘person’ like that, to mimic distinctly human expressions. The dish slipped from between his cracked lips. His long nails bent back painfully as he dropped his stomach to chase the porcelain.  _ Perfect, but never perfect enough. _

Seungmin’s tone was incinerating: “Goddamnit. I’d have you pick the shards up with your mouth, but we wouldn’t want to pop your lip fillers. Go to the table. Can you do that? Can you walk? Or do I have to teach you how to do that, too?” He leaned against the wall and folded his arms. “Thirty lines. The usual phrase. I hope you remember how to spell, bitch.” 

The semen was still drying in Hyunjin’s hair. Writing lines with his extensions proved difficult. He had to adjust his grip to accommodate the length, and by the sixth iteration of Seungmin’s chosen phrase, his wrist was cramping dreadfully. One of Hyunjin’s nails broke after he dug the gel pen into the paper. He stared at the jagged piece of acrylic, gleaming on the table like beach glass. He didn’t realize how attached he was to them. His script looked like a strike of lightning on the pretty pink stationary. 

He had made it halfway through the twelfth line:  _ I will obey Master  _

He took a brief moment to mourn, his nail and then picked back up where he’d left off. 

_ without question  _

His hair was crusted over with cum.  _ I will not fail again  _

**Author's Note:**

> comments and kudos are always appreciated! 
> 
> feel free to contact me elsewhere:  
> ⚜ [twitter](https://twitter.com/seungshibari)  
> ⚜ [curiouscat](https://curiouscat.me/seungshibari)


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